


Exes and Oh’s

by melody0606



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Exes, F/F, Femslash, Femslash February, ex boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 11:54:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9724472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melody0606/pseuds/melody0606
Summary: Ginny and Pansy are fed up with their respective ex-boyfriends.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A big thanks to @ohlookagaydraco for all of her support and @well-done-draco for beta-ing and for all your encouragement and kind words. :) I’m so glad to be a part of this community.

“Potter stood you up again, Weaslette?”

Ginny exhaled deeply and took a swig of her flask, tongue tasting butterbeer.  “Parkinson,” She said, glaring at Pansy who was hovering by the door to the Astronomy tower. “Don’t you have a ferret to be getting back to?”

Pansy had abandoned her school robes, hair cascading down her left shoulder. Her uniform was still not up to school code, but Ginny was hardly one to follow rules herself, and was presently drinking her sorrows away. She scowled, affronted by the idea. “Malfoy and I are no longer on speaking terms.”

Ginny snorted and took another swig of her butterbeer and asked, “He finally woke up and saw the swine he was dating?”

Pansy pressed her lips into a thin line, leaning against the stone column of Ginny’s window. Her eyes fixed on the Quidditch pitch. There was a lone flyer flying languid laps over the field with an air of…enthusiasm.

Ginny narrowed her eyes.

“I’ll chalk that up to your turmoil over Potter’s abandonment,” Pansy said decisively, arching an elegant eyebrow.

Ginny gritted her teeth. “He didn’t abandon me,” she ground out, and before she could stop herself offered, “we broke up.”

There was fleeting shock before Pansy’s eyes lit up with delighted glee, angling her hips towards her latest project. “So you _are_ recovering from some emotional, Potter inflicted trauma?”

“It was a mutual breakup. There wasn’t anything ‘ _traumatic_ ’ about it,” Ginny muttered. The butterbeer was officially gone, and what a shame it was. She was going to need it if she were to have this conversation. She dropped the empty flask onto her lap and gazed back onto the field, eyes burning because it was _his_ fault she had no butterbeer. Ginny wrapped her arms around herself tightly.

“If it was a mutual breakup then you certainly don’t need to be glaring daggers into the back of Potter’s head.”

Ginny scowled, and in a wave of red hair, turned to Pansy. “Is there a reason you’re here? You know, other than to annoy me?”

“Malfoy sent me to ask you why Potter wasn’t at dinner,” She explained with indifference, as if the whole matter was beneath her.

Pansy, Ginny had noticed, always had a tell when someone had kindled her ire. Her eyes faded to darkened gems, each facet etched with boredom, and her lips curled into a daunting smirk. Merlin save the poor fool who had the nerve to make Pansy bored.

Ginny grimaced. “Harry asked me the same yesterday,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “While we were snogging.”

She had pulled him onto her mouth, warmed by the heat of the fireplace, but passion wasn’t there. Yet she kept pushing, because it had been too long and it was Harry – everything took twice as long with Harry. She always had to treat him like a deer that would easily startle. It was ok at first. She got it. She understood him. But she wasn’t a _girl_ anymore. She needed more of him, but every time she pulled away to breathe, he was on about Malfoy. His eyes were glazed over as if he was thinking about the git and not about _her_ – about _them_. Was anything ever about them?

 _“Do you want to break up?”_ The words spilled from her lips.  

She hadn’t expected him to say _yes_.

Ginny soothed herself, running her hands up and down her arms and drawing up her knees.

“That’s just in bad taste,” Pansy admitted, glancing at her manicured nails and offering Ginny the line of her fair neck. She crossed her ankles, skirt showing too much thigh, her heels elongating the length of her legs. “Though it doesn’t beat Malfoy subjecting me to the tales of Potter, and the stick shoved up his arse as of late, while I was in the middle of sucking his cock.”

Ginny grimaced. “Damn.”

She’d have likely bitten Harry’s dick off if his attention wasn’t on her. Not that they had even made it there either, she mused darkly, and sank into her self-embrace, resting her chin on top of her folded arms.

“Quite. Hence why we are no longer speaking.”

“But you still came to do his dirty work?” Ginny scrutinized, eying her doubtfully.

Pansy glanced up from her red varnish, which Ginny found exceedingly ironic, and gave Ginny’s suspicions a seething stare. “I’m not an owl, Weaslette. If Malfoy wants to know what Scarhead is up to he can go find him himself.”

A grin passed over Ginny’s face, pleased that her boyfriend was not the only dickhead at Hogwarts. Even the regal Pansy Parkinson was not pardoned from their stupidity. “Color me impressed. Never thought I’d see the day where Pansy Parkinson wasn’t fawning over that albino snake.”

Pansy bristled, tousling her hair so it blocked the pleasant sight of her neck. “The bloody two of them deserve each other. He’s so obsessed with Potter even the way he says his name sounds like a bloody _endearment_.” She rearranged herself against the column, mouth pinched like she were sucking on a tart lemon.

Apprehension dawned on Ginny’s face. “Now that you say it, I see it too,” Ginny contemplated. “Always ‘Malfoy this, Malfoy that.’ He sounds so charmed by that wanker.” She frowned.

“The two of them are going to send me spiraling into the world of alcoholism and they’ll be footing the bill,” Pansy fumed. Alcoholism would not compliment her delicate constitution. At least Blaise had the decency to not send his friends into depths of despair, especially over Potter.

Pansy cleared her throat.

“I see you’ve already had a head start?” She nodded towards Ginny’s lap. “I hope you’re making the Golden Boy pay for whatever was in that flask.” Ginny chuckled.  

Silence filled the space between them, both reflecting over the men that had rebuked them.

Harry had always been so interested in Ginny. Kind and polite. Always the gentleman. The first time he had kissed her, his hands had trembled. They had raced through time atop of Harry’s Firebolt, with him clinging to her waist. There were brief snogging encounters in the corridors, away from wandering eyes.

Ginny’s eyes prickled and dreaded realization settled to the bottom of her stomach.

“I _miss_ him,” she whispered.

“Ginevra,” Pansy hissed scandalized, turning to her with horror, “we do not _miss_ boys. We avenge ourselves by making _them_ miss _us_.”

Ginny didn’t think Harry would miss her at all, and stared wistfully at the empty pitch, no unkept haired flyers in sight.

The tears flowed in small dew drops over her blouse. “But – but I really miss him. He’s just so-“

“Into Malfoy,” Pansy deadpanned.

Ginny’s body shook with emotion, realization heavy on her conscience. “I turned him into a poof!” Ginny wailed.

“No,” Pansy said insightfully, “I think Malfoy did that all on his own.”

Ginny cried hopelessly into her hands.

Pansy breathed vexation through her upturned nose. “Weaslette, you are a perfectly…” she hesitated, and couldn’t believe she was actually saying this, “ _acceptable_ specimen of the female form.”

“Have you _seen_ Hermione’s boobs?!” Ginny moaned from her palms.

Pansy pursed her lips. She had.

“Yes, well those are a _finer_ specimen but – “

“And he’s around her constantly – always prattling on about something,” Ginny pulled up from her palms in a flurry of red hair and narrowed her wet eyes. “Do you think he’s in love with Hermione?”

Pansy didn’t really care if he was, but she did think Ginny Weasley looked ferocious in her fiery crown of red hair and the tear tracks on her cheeks.

“No. Definitely Malfoy.” Pansy paused. “Definitely.”

Ginny’s lower lip quivered and Pansy’s heart was exhausted from all the anguish on Ginny’s face, and the burning rage to show Potter just how one should treat a lady – _with her wand_.  

“Weaslette, do you honestly _miss_ ,” She spat the word out like it sat on her tongue wrong, “Saint Potter? Or are you bored to tears from this routine - constant breakups and reconciliations?”

“Yes…and _no_! I don’t know!” Ginny sobbed.

Pansy pinched her nose. “Disgraceful,” she muttered.

“How much alcohol has drowned your brain?” Pansy demanded.

“It was only butterbeer!”

Pansy winced. Butterbeer was child’s play. “You do see that, that relationship is only one-sided, yes?”

“And yours and Malfoy’s?!” Ginny countered.

“I’m not the one sobbing for him to love me!” Pansy snapped. She regretted it immediately, agony deepening on Ginny’s face. “Alright then,” Pansy barked. “Take a break from blokes. Go out. Pick a girl, kiss the girl, make love to the girl, and if you still miss Potter, fine! I’m sure you can win him over from Malfoy… Do you think we’d be able to dye your hair blonde?”

Ginny gawped at her, slack jawed.

“Are you serious right now?!” Ginny hissed, aghast because this was _unreal_.

“It’ll only be temporary and I’m still not sure if Madam Rosemary’s hair potion will work on that hair – it’s so vibrantly Weasley –“ Pansy studied Ginny’s hair as she considered the potion on her vanity.

“Forget about the hair!”

“Then _what_?” Pansy said exasperated.

“The…the kissing girls part!” Ginny choked on her words.

She was honestly surprised she hadn’t choked on a butterfly from the nest in her stomach, because the idea…the idea of kissing a girl – making love to her – made her heart flutter with interest, like the time she had glimpsed Hermione’s boobs while they were changing.

“Don’t be a prude, Ginerva. Witches have been fucking other witches for centuries.  I’m sure your mother has had plenty of female partners.” Pansy waved off her concerns.

Ginny continued to gape at her like a mermaid out of water. She resolutely did not think of the heat pooling in her stomach when Pansy said ‘fucking,’ or the way Pansy’s lips formed around the words – and just how sinfully filthy and dirty they sounded coming from her proper mouth.

All thoughts of Harry had taken the taken a leave from her mind, because Harry did not say the word _‘fucking’_ (at least not in the same context as Pansy) and he _certainly_ did not sound so… Ginny thought it wise not to ponder that.

“My mother does not fuck other witches!” Ginny’s voice was high pitched and entering on shrill, because Merlin, Pansy, this was her _mother_!

Pansy regarded Ginny with pity. “Your mother sounds awful.”

“Pansy!”

Pansy sighed deeply. “Merlin’s Beard,” she prayed up to the ceiling, and then promptly yanked Ginny from her seat on the window ledge. Ginny stumbled to her feet and Pansy swooped in to kiss her deeply.

Pansy nibbled on her lips, tongue hot in Ginny’s mouth, and an explosion of passion ambled through Ginny. She melted into the kiss, fighting Pansy’s tongue for a taste of the Slytherin, and her hands shaking when she cupped her jaw.

Ginny hadn’t felt this hungry in a while.

Pansy pulled away, intent on leaving Ginny with a snide comment, and to return to her room to take care of the increasingly wet problem between her thighs. She had not expected the flashing glimpse of lust in Ginny’s eyes before she was pulled in for another bruising kiss.

Well,” Pansy leered, smug as they stopped for air, “They can have each other then.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Just kiss me – fuck,” she groaned, Pansy pulling her closer by the shirt tails of her blouse. Pansy’s eyes darkened, fixated on the way ‘ _fuck’_ rolled off Ginny’s tongue.  

She tore into the Gryffindor, hands tangled into red hair, rough and bruising, and Ginny arched into every touch.

Absentmindedly, Pansy thought Madame Rosemary’s potion would most definitely not do – she was rather fond of redheads.  


End file.
